Stories in Ceramic
by Homura Bakura
Summary: [complete] "We should write it down," she whispered. "Write what down?" "The time before. So we don't forget it." If we focus so much on what was before, will I forget the you now? - a collection of stories for Vaseshipping Week 2016
1. Memories in Agate

_"_ _I think," she whispered, "we should write it down."_

 _"_ _Write what down?" he asked, looking up from his book._

 _"_ _You know," she said, pointing to the doodles she had left on the margins of his notebook, which she was supposed to be studying from. "This. The things we remember."_

 _His hands tightened on the edges of the book, crinkling the paper. For a moment, he thought about saying no. He looked at her, with the sun dancing through her hair. The autumn morning twirling into her auburn, trailing in thick waves down her back, sparkling with the reflection of the orange and yellow and red glow from the changing trees. She was beautiful, made of sunlight and smiles and clear autumn skies._

 _He remembered her by a different light, the light reflected off of desert sands. For a moment, the image threatened to tear this one apart._

 _If they tried to remember before, would he be able to remember today?_

* * *

"Mana," Atem said. "Mana, dinner's getting cold. Isis told me to come and get you—do you have your headphones in again?"

He pushed the door open a crack, peeking through.

The moment he cracked the door, it flew open all the way and he stumbled forward with a squeak. Mana's arm dropped around his shoulders and he barely had the time to look up before there was a loud, synthetic click over his head.

Mana giggled as she released Atem's shoulder, letting him regain his balance.

"Sneak attack selfie? Really?" Atem said, rubbing the back of his neck—he might have pulled it a little in the movement. "You could have just asked."

Mana waved her phone back and forth with a huge, sparkling grin.

"And miss out on the chance to get your face like that? No way!"

She jumped back over the pile of photos, clippings, and scrapbook décor scattered all over the floor—she must have been working on that massive scrapbook project of hers again. The book lay open to a blank page towards the end, stuffed so full of photos and memorabilia already that it looked like it was about to explode memories all over the floor.

She grinned as she stared down at her phone and flipped to the gallery. A snort tumbled out of her nose.

"This one is going right in the middle of the page," she said.

"Let me see," Atem said, reaching for the phone.

"Nuh uh!"

She held her phone just out of his reach, reaching up on her tip toes to take advantage of the two inches she still had on him.

"You have to wait til I put it into the scrapbook!"

"Oh really?" Atem said, grinning at her mischievously.

He poked her under the ribs and Mana squealed, her arms snapping down to her sides instinctively to protect from the tickles. That was all Atem needed to snag the phone from her fingers and dance back out of the way, turning around so that he could look at the picture before she could snag it back.

"Temmmmmmiiiiiiiii," Mana whined, throwing herself at his back and trying to reach over her shoulders for the phone. "Give it baaaack!"

Atem laughed and held it just out of her reach.

"What if I just…" he grinned over his shoulder at her, finger hovering over the delete button.

"Noooo, that's a centerpiece for my new page—"

Her laugh in between her word became a squeak as suddenly someone's foot caught on the giant scrapbook. Both of them let out a cry as they tumbled back at the same time, landing with the same "OOF"

"Uuugh…this is what Isis doesn't want us to horseplay in the house," Atem said.

"Can't breathe, get off," Mana groaned, pushing him by the shoulders to heave him onto the floor. He rolled off and landed on his stomach, still holding her phone.

For a moment, they both just laid there. Mana let out one breathy giggle, and Atem had to smile, but neither of them spoke. It was like they didn't feel they had to. Atem turned the phone towards him and unlocked it—Mana was horribly simple with her knock codes, and she hadn't changed it since the last time he had stolen her phone to change her wallpaper. The photo was still on the screen, Mana winking with an Instagram model's flair as she pulled Atem towards her by the arm around his shoulders—he looked ridiculous, Atem thought with a faint smile. Like he was drunk, or something. His eyes were all droopy and his mouth hanging open.

He closed the phone again without deleting the photo—knowing Mana, it was probably already backed up to three different internet services anyway.

For a moment, it was only the silence between them, the dust swirling in the sunlight from her window.

"You've already got a lot in that photo album," he said.

"Mmhm," Mana said.

"With all your social media stuff, I'm always kind of surprised you're making a physical copy…aren't there online scrapbooking stuff? You'd probably save a lot on the decorations."

Mana rolled over onto her side so that she could look at him. The sunlight caught her eyes just so, so that there was only one line of brilliant green, and the rest was so dark it was almost black. Her eyes seemed to glow as though they were made of real gems.

"I dunno if the internet will still be around the next time we come back," she said. "I have to make sure there's a physical copy hidden away too. So that we don't lose all the memories again."

Her voice was so quiet that it could have been the dust speaking to him. Atem felt his smile disappear slowly. Mana dragged her finger through the carpet and left trails behind.

"I don't want to forget any of the memories we've made together," she said. "I don't want to forget."

Atem's hand slid across the carpet, but stopped before it reached her hand.

He couldn't say what he wanted to say. The truth, that he wasn't even sure was quite the truth.

* * *

 _Sometimes, I wish I_ could _forget_ , he thought. _Sometimes, I_ do _want to forget._

 _"_ _We should write it down," she said again. "So that we can't forget anything next time."_

 _"_ _Why don't we just focus on the memories now?"_

 _She put her hands on her hips, rolling up to a seated position._

 _"_ _Of course we have to remember the things now. But if we wait much longer, we'll grow up. The last life will disappear. Is that what you want?"_

 _He looked up into the autumn sky, the clouds that were starting to form. A gray stain on an otherwise clear blue day._

 _"_ _I don't know," he whispered._


	2. Joy in Jasper

_He screams in his dreams, but the sound never actually escapes him. He wonders if it's better or worse that way. The pain isn't real, but he feels like it is._

 _Only fifteen, already dead. He remembers it—dying._

 _He is almost fifteen now. There's an acrid taste in the back of his mouth as his birthday draws nearer, the birthday that 3,000 years ago ended days later with his death._

 _He remembers dying._

 _He doesn't want to._

 _He doesn't want to remember any of it._

* * *

Mana stuck her tongue out at the boy, feeling her shoulders tremble with anger. She wanted to say something or do something worse to him, like how he so easily and casually flipped her off before sauntering away, but nothing came to mind. Nothing that she wouldn't get in trouble for later, anyway.

"Mana? Hey are you okay? You look mad."

She turned, sneakers scraping on the sidewalk.

"Temmi! You're out early!"

Atem's cheeks darkened slightly at the nickname—she knew it was starting to bother him, now that they were in high school, but he had never asked her to stop. He just shrugged.

"They sent me home; no one needed math tutoring today," he said. "So I guess we're walking home together for once."

Mana's eyes lit up, and she felt all the frustration of before melt away. Atem still frowned though, tilting his head.

"So what was that about? That transfer student wasn't bothering you again, was he?"

"Bakura? Nah, it's fine," Mana said, lying between her teeth.

Atem clearly noticed, as he raised an eyebrow at her. She let out a harsh sigh, flapping her lips with the motion.

"He just tried to steal my hijab again. No big deal. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," Atem said, jaw clenching. "Mana, I think we should tell the principal. He can't do that to you; it's harassment."

"I don't want to make a big deal," Mana said, clasping her hands behind her back. "Really, Atem…I don't…I don't want people to start looking at me funnier than they already do."

Atem's hand still looked white where his knuckles were gripping his book bag too hard. He clamped his jaw tightly and started to turn around.

"All right, then I'm going to make sure Bakura knows better."

"Temmi, wait!" Mana said, hopping forward. "Seriously, don't get in a fight with him! You know he's stronger than you are, and I'm not fixing up your black eye!"

Atem paused, and looked down at Mana.

Then a huge grin spread over his face.

"Who said anything about fighting him?" he said.

He flipped open his bookbag and let Mana take a look inside. Mana stared at it for a moment. Then she looked up at him, feeling a mischievous grin spread over her own face.

"We could get in so much trouble," she giggled.

"Since when has that ever stopped us before?" Atem said with an almost evil grin.

 _"_ _BOUSAID!"_

Mana had to stop herself from breaking down into giggles just at the sound of Bakura's angry voice echoing down the hall. Atem barely even responded, except to lick his finger so that he could turn the page of his book, as though he were utterly engrossed in it.

The door flung open, and several students who were early for class jumped, all of the pre-class chatter dying down as Bakura flew into the room, his face red and livid. A bright pink floral scarf was fluttering from his fingers—not as though he had grabbed it, though, as his hand was completely splayed out and he seemed to be trying to shake it off.

Mana felt like she was going to explode with giggles, and hid herself behind her book as she puffed out her cheeks.

Bakura slammed the hand with the floral scarf onto Atem's desk.

"Look up here, Bousaid, I know it was you who did this! No one else has the balls!"

Atem blinked once at his book, apparently finishing his sentence. Just when it seemed Bakura might explode, Atem finally looked up. He glanced at the scarf, and then up at Bakura.

"Sorry, I don't think that's mine…not really my color," he said.

Bakura waved his hand in Atem's face, showing how the scarf wasn't coming off his hand.

"Not the fucking scarf—the fucking superglue! You left it in my locker with superglue, you fuck! It won't come off my fucking hand!"

"Superglue? I don't actually carry that with me on a regular basis. Are you sure it's not just your own sticky fingers? Since you don't seem to be able to keep them off of Mana's scarves, either."

Bakura's hair actually looked like it might change from a fluffy white into dark gray stormclouds, his whole face almost swelling up. He opened his mouth, presumably to shout again, when the door opened and a teacher peered inside, frowning as they peered over their glasses.

"My goodness, what's all the noise!" they said. "Bakura, is there something the matter?"

Mana couldn't hold it in anymore, the laughs were tickling on the inside of her chest and she was going to explode. She put her head down on the table around her arms and laughed into the wood.

Bakura made some angry sound that might have been a swear, but Mana couldn't hear over her own giggles. The teacher said something else in a stern voice, she caught Bakura's name but nothing else.

Then all she heard was the sound of Bakura's angry sneakers squeaking out of the room, and the door he slammed behind him.

Mana's giggles finally subsided, and she twisted her face to see Atem. Atem winked at her, and they shared one fist bump under their desks.

"You're the best," she whispered.

"I try," he said, a joke in his voice.

* * *

 _He always wakes up to find her on the edge of the bed. Tears in his eyes that he doesn't remember crying, stained to his cheeks. She is small, silent, and still in the darkness, a little guardian angel at the foot of his bed._

 _"_ _Why do you want to remember so much?" he whispers._

 _She just ducks her head, and puts her hand on top of his._

 _"_ _Because there were good times too," she says. "Even though it ended badly."_

 _He wishes he could remember the good times as clearly as the bad ones._


	3. Majolica Dreams

_She keeps the cards, but she doesn't use them. She's certain that he's the same, but they have never spoken of it to each other._

 _Hers are in a box under her bed. When she's alone and the door is locked, she reaches under and she opens it up, finding the art staring up at her. Her face, but with different colors—that's the most important one. She lifts it out of the box and stares at it for a while, letting the light sneaking through the blinds twist and turn over the top of the holographic surface._

 _Looking at her, the pale blonde girl that shares her face, reminds her of the days when they had to fight. The roar of energy blasts past her ears, the ringing of screams rattling in her heads, the prayers that the woman beside her kept whispering through a cracked through, the sky grown dark and cracked with the impression of the great beast lumbering towards them._

 _Sometimes she understands when he says doesn't want to remember._

* * *

Atem flipped through the pictures on his phone with one hand, the other gripping the slack of the train handle to stop himself from ricocheting all around the train car. Mana, meanwhile, appeared very deep in thought, standing at an angle in the aisle and squatting in place. It was a good thing the car was mostly empty, as she was already getting a few odd looks.

"Mana," Atem said, without looking up from his phone. "Please just use the handles. Or sit down. That's what they're there for."

"Nuh-uh," Mana said, swaying in time with the movement of the train. "I have to practice stability. Did you know if you stand at the right angle and lower your center of gravity, you barely feel the movement of the train?"

"Yes, I did know that, cause you've told me about twelve times on this trip alone," Atem said.

His gaze flicked up just in time to see her stick her tongue out at him. She reached up once to smooth the folds of her ridiculously bright fluorescent green hijab, and then put both her arms out to her sides for balance. Atem rolled his eyes and glance back down at his phone.

The intercom hummed to life as a synthesized woman's voice reminded everyone that they were now arriving at the next stop. Their stop wasn't for another two yet, so Atem wasn't going to even look up.

But then Mana squeaked as the train started to rumble to a stop, and Atem looked up just in time for her to come tumbling back, smacking into his chest. He oofed, almost losing his grip on the handle. His phone clattered to the ground as he flung one arm around Mana's shoulders before she crashed down to the ground.

"This is why you should sit!" he said. "Geez, it's not like they're out of seats! Are you okay?"

He helped her push back onto her feet while the doors slid open and new passengers filed on or off. Mana laughed nervously, fiddling with the hem of her jacket.

"I won't fall next time," she said. "Sorry about that."

"You won't fall because you're going to sit down," Atem said, pointing to the seat. "Mana, please."

For a moment, Mana just stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, hands on her hips. Atem raised an eyebrow. She let out a heavy breath that made her lips flap, and flopped down into the seat beside him.

"You're not sitting either," she mumbled, arms folded and looking sulky.

Atem rolled his eyes as he tried to get his heart to calm down. Mana was going to get herself hurt one day—geez. He felt like he was her mom some days.

He remembered, then, that he had dropped his phone. The doors slid shut and the train clattered beneath him as it began to pick up, and he turned over his shoulder to try and see where it had gone. Where was it? It wasn't on the ground—could it have slid under a seat? He dropped his hand from the handle and started to crouch down to look for it. Oh, crap, what if one of the passengers had kicked it off on the next station—

"Excuse me," a soft voice said. "Is this yours?"

The voice was quiet, softly accented. It almost sounded like he was adding extra vowels to the ends of words where they didn't belong, but it was understandable enough.

Atem glanced up to find a man holding out his phone.

He was taller than Atem, his brown hair shaggy and uneven, as though he had attempted to cut it himself and given up after a few chops. He had just the barest hint of a five o'clock shadow on his chin, and his red jacket looked like it had seen better days, a black patch already sewn onto each elbow and the hem torn and stained with dirt.

 _He must be Japanese_ , Atem thought. His facial structure and his accent reminded him of Bakura, the Japanese transfer student at his school.

"Oh, thanks," Atem said quickly, taking the phone back. At least his heavy duty case was snapped tightly on—Mana had made fun of him for being too cautious by buying the large case, but he was glad he had. Everything looked okay.

The man nodded with wink.

"No problem," he said. "Excuse me, don't wanna sound creepy or anything, but is that a Duel Monsters card in your front pocket?"

Atem blinked, and Mana leaned forward with a sudden interest. He glanced down at his own breast pocket—had he forgotten to take it out…?

He blushed as he dug the slip of paper from his pocket, and the shiny front of the Dark Magician looked back at him. He looked back up at the man with a sheepish half smile.

"Yeah, you're right," he said.

"Do you play?" the man asked.

"Not really," Atem admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just kinda…a good luck charm."

"What!" Mana squeaked, leaning forward even more—geez, now she was going to tumble out of her seat. How did she manage to get herself into the most dangerous positions every single time? She reached into her own pocket and pulled out the sleeved Dark Magician Girl that he knew she carried everywhere to wave it in the air. "You teased me when I told you I keep Dark Magician Girl as a good luck charm! You've been doing the same thing!"

"You would have teased me first," Atem pointed out.

Mana folded her arms and flopped back against her seat with a sulky huff. The man chuckled, and Atem remembered that he was there. He felt his cheeks warm up again.

"Sorry," he said. "You play it; I guess?"

"A little," the man said. "It's really popular back home—Japan, I mean."

"Oh! You're from Japan?" Mana said, bouncing to the edge of her seat again. "What brings you to New York?"

"Just checking in on a few friends," the man said with a wink. "Guess I didn't expect to run into some so soon."

The look in his eyes was odd, unreadable when he said that, and Atem found himself glancing at Mana. He looked back at the man, tilting his head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

The intercom buzzed and once again, the robotic voice reminded passengers of the upcoming stop.

"That's mine," the man said, reaching for the bag on his seat. "Nice to meet you kids. Take care of those cards of yours—they seem to like you quite a bit."

"Huh?" Atem said.

The man only winked as he slung the bag over his back. It wriggled indignantly, and Atem almost squeaked at what appeared to be a living bag before a cat's face poked briefly out the top, glancing at him before burrowing back inside. What in the…

The man hopped through the open doors and landed lightly on the platform. Mana and Atem could only stare as he seemed to hesitate. Then he suddenly spun on his heels, dug in his pocket, and pulled out something small and flat. He pushed them through the doors towards Atem and Mana.

"Here, take these! I think they'll be happier with you!"

"Huh? I—"

The doors were starting to close and the man's hand was still pushed through the space. Mana's hand snapped out and snagged the paper from his hands, and the man jerked his hand back. He sent them both a grin, and gave them a two fingered salute.

"Name's Judai," he said, just before the doors closed. "It was good to see you two."

And then the doors were closed, and there were a glass window between them. Atem could only stare, aware that his mouth was hanging open. Judai did not move from the window, and the train began to move without him. Atem had to crane his neck to look through the glass and see him disappear as the train picked up speed.

After a moment, he glanced back down at Mana.

"What did he give you?" he said.

Mana was holding them in her hands now, splayed out—Duel Monsters cards. There were five of them. Atem read off the names even upside down: Silent Magician. Magician of Faith. Cyborg Commander. Flame Swordsman. Change of Heart.

For some reason, he felt tears suddenly spring to his eyes. His heart jumped. After a beat, he sat down next to Mana, settling heavily into the seat.

"Why do you think he gave them to us?" he said, wiping a strange tear from his eye before it could fall.

Mana's fingers tightened on the cards.

"I think he was giving us your friends back," she whispered.

And then,

"I wish I could have met them for real."

Atem leaned down, tried to see her face tilted over the cards. She only turned her face away. She slid the cards back into a stack, and held them out to him.

"Here," she said. "I think you should have them."

She did not speak for the rest of the ride.

* * *

 _That night he comes into her room. The cards are in his hand, hanging at his side. His eyes are red—tired. He has been crying in his sleep, she can tell. She wonders if he's just woken up._

" _You have the others too, right?" he whispers, voice hoarse and slurred with sleep. "Do you have everyone?"_

 _She responds by leaning over the bed and pulling out the box. She pulls each card one at a time, lays them on the covers. Duos. Spiria. Twin Headed Jackal. Celtic Guardian. Even one piece of Exodia, the Left Arm. Dark Magician Girl comes out last, and she hesitates for a breath before she lays it on the bed._

 _He reaches forward and adds the new five to the spread. His hand drops onto the covers, and hers moves to sit next to his, without touching._

 _One of his tears falls on top of the cards. She doesn't mention it. Neither does she._

" _Sometimes I understand when you say you want to remember," he whispers._


	4. Days in Tortoiseshell

_It's quiet in her head for once. Usually, everything screams. Everything shouts—every leaf fluttering to the ground, every breeze, every mote of dust shoots stabs of memory through her eyes that burn through every vein and make her shudder to her core. Everything reminds her of the time before. Before she lived this life, that is._

 _Her head is a constant explosion of memory. She can't pick up a fork without remembering a stick she lifted off the ground by the banks of the Nile. She can't blow dust off of her computer screen without remembering sweeping dust off of an old scroll Mahad needed._

 _It hurts._

 _It really hurts._

 _Does she_ have _to remember, in the end? Everyone is here with her now. They all live happily and safely this time, together again._

 _Why does she have to remember?_

* * *

The carnival was by far the LOUDEST place she had ever been too—and it was AMAZING.

"Temmi, Temmi, Temmi!" Mana squealed. "Look at that! We have to do that, that looks so fun!"

"That looks like vomit town," Atem said, raising his eyebrow at the spinning monstrosity. "Just don't eat anything before hand."

"Atem, Mana, over here," a voice called. "You guys are late."

Mana turned on her heels, ripping her eyes reluctantly from the glowing lights everywhere, brilliant and colorful against the darkening sky.

"Oh! There you are, Seth!"

Atem's cousin stood in the shadow of the ticket booth beside the fence, his shaggy brown hair flipped to the sides of his eyes so that he could see. Like usual, he was dressed as boring as possible, in a plain periwinkle sweater and jeans. The color looked good against his tan skin, and it _did_ bring out the color of his blue eyes, but it was such a boring solid color with no designs. She huffed softly, still annoyed that he hadn't taken her fashion advice. He was going on his first date with his girlfriend, he could at least put a little time and effort into his looks!

And where was the girlfriend, anyway, Mana was super excited to meet her finally—oh!

As Atem and Mana both hurried over to meet Seth, another girl came at a brisk walk along the side of the fence, a slurpee in each hand. Mana had to resist letting out a soft oooh—the girl was beautiful. In the darkening evening, she could have been made out of moonlight, her long pale blue hair almost white and glowing, hanging long and loose around her pale shoulders. Unlike Seth, she had actually dressed up for the occasion, in a shoulderless pink dress that came to her knees, with white tights and black flats to finish off the look.

"Oooh is this your girlfriend?" Mana said. "Hi, I'm Mana! I'm so glad to meet you!"

The girl blushed lightly at the exuberent greeting. She handed off one slurpee to Seth before shaking Mana's hand.

"I've heard so much about you," she said. "I'm Kisara, it's great to meet you too."

She turned to Atem next with a smile, and Atem smiled back, nodding to her.

"You must be Atem, then, right? Seth's cousin."

"That's me," Atem said, bowing slightly. "It's good to meet you—Seth's been pretty stingy about sharing."

He and Mana both looked at each other and laughed, while Seth just scowled.

"This is why I didn't want to invite you guys; if you're just going to tease me all night—"

But Kisara laughed softly and Seth's irritable expression melted, Mana noted with a bit of glee. Kisara curled her hand into Seth's and took a sip of her slurpee. Atem couldn't help but send Mana a mischievous, cross eyed grin.

"Well, anyway, this is our first time at a carnival, so what do we do?" Atem said.

"Really? You've never been?" Kisara said, her eyes lighting up. "Oohh, we have to try the Gravitron first then!"

"Is that the spinning one?" Mana said.

"Yes!" Kisara said. "Oh, we might want to finish these first though."

She shook her slurpee and laughed.

"Or maybe we don't, do we really need to throw up today?" Seth said with a snort.

Kisara laughed as she bumped him with her shoulder.

"It's not a carnival if you don't feel sick after," she said. "Okay, then, Mr. No-Fun, we can do the Ferris Wheel first to get ourselves warmed up."

"Temmi, let's get some of those slurpees first, they look good," Mana said, pointing to the booth where Kisara had come from. "We'll meet you lovebirds there!"

Kisara raised her slurpee in salute and Seth rolled his eyes. Then the pairs both walked off towards their destinations, Mana humming as she skipped towards the booth.

"Slurpees are halal, right?" Mana said over her shoulder.

"They are literally just ice," Atem said. "I'm pretty sure."

Mana had to laugh at his deadpan expression, and his face broke into a grin too. Mana got to the stand first and ordered them both a blue raspberry, then she bounced back beside Atem while he dug for his wallet.

"So what do you think of Kisara?" Mana said.

"We've met her for two minutes," Atem said, chuckling.

"Yeah, but you can tell, right? She seems sweet! And Seth really loves her, I can tell."

"Yeah."

Atem handed the money to the man at the booth, and after a beat, two blue slurpees were pushed across the counter to them. He handed one to Mana. It felt so nice and cold against her hands, and she just had to hold it for a moment to enjoy the feeling before she grabbed a straw and started to stab at the ice to get it nice and mushy.

Atem slurped at his own, his eyes going out of focus as they wandered towards the Ferris Wheel.

"I _do_ think is father's going to be upset, though," Atem said. "Seth might...have a storm coming."

"What? Why would he be upset?" Mana said.

Atem glanced over the top of his straw, raising an eyebrow. Mana sighed.

"Okay, okay, I guess I see your point," she said. "But if they really like each other, it shouldn't matter that she's not Muslim."

"Just because my dad is like that doesn't mean Uncle Akhenaden is so chill about it..."

Atem shook his head, looking irritated as he drank more slurpee. Mana only sipped at hers in silence. She wasn't really sure what to say.

"They're meant for each other," she said after a beat. "And Seth's dad can't stop it."

Atem glanced down at Mana, but she didn't look back at him. She didn't want to have to bring up what they both knew she was talking about.

Quietly, briefly, Atem touched the back of her hand. The touch disappeared just as quickly.

"Like us, right?" she thought he heard him say.

It was so quiet that she could pretend that she didn't hear it. She knew neither of them wanted to bring it up. Not anymore. She picked up the pace, putting a force skip into her step.

"Come on, slowpoke, I want to ride a Ferris Wheel for the first time! Let's go, let's go!"

She ran, and behind her, she heard him laugh, heard his feet scrape through the dust as he chased after her. Her scarf bounced around her neck, and she her eyes close for just a beat to feel the cold air on her face.

* * *

 _This is okay, right?_

 _She cries a lot. He knows it, but he isn't sure if she wants him to know._

" _It hurts," she says. "It hurts to remember."_

" _Then why do you?"_

 _She stares at him. This is the part where she says "because I want to" "because it's important" "because they were good times" or even "because what else is there?"_

 _Today she only whispers, "I don't know."_

 _That hurts him more than any memory ever has._


	5. Color of Porcelain

_Pain._

 _Happiness._

 _It's a cycle, every day. Remembering is a chore. It's a blessing._

 _How many others get the chance they do?_

 _What are they supposed to be doing with that chance?_

* * *

"Mana, please."

Atem pressed his hands to the door, feeling it smooth and cool under his fingers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your scrapbook organization. I didn't know there—I didn't know there was an organization. I should have asked first."

There was no answer. His hands curled up against the wood of her door, crinkling the big, messy "Do Not Disturb" sign that had been messily written and slapped onto the wood with fraying tape.

Atem pressed into the door, laying his forehead against the wood. She hadn't spoken to him in almost a whole day. He didn't want to end the day like this...

"Mana," he said again into the wood, hoping his voice would carry through. "Mana, please...can you at least...let me know you're still there?"

He knocked his knuckles lightly against the wood. He supposed she could be sleeping, but Mana didn't really like to take naps. Besides, he kept thinking he heard the sound of crinkling paper inside. She was probably working on the scrapbook again.

He didn't move for a moment, head pressed against the wood, leaning into the door. The only sound was the paper crinkling through the door. He had just moved some of the photos off of the table to another counter so he could put his plate down...he didn't realize the counter had been wet under them. They weren't even that wet, and they hadn't crinkled when they dried...so he didn't really know why she was so upset...

He blew out through his lips, the air rushing from his throat.

Maybe he did.

"This isn't about the scrapbook, is it?"

The paper crinkling paused. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the door gave under his hands, and he straightened before he lost his balance. Mana appeared in the crack, her hair looking limp and messy, her eyes hidden under her bangs.

"Can you talk to me?" Atem said, his voice cracking, pleading. "Mana...please..."

Mana's mouth opened, but she hesitated for almost thirty seconds before a sound came out of her throat.

"We never want to talk," she whispered. "We never want to talk about it."

Atem felt the lump growing in his throat.

"Remember when we were kids?" he said, putting his hand on the door, wishing he could push it all the way open. "When we talked about it all the time? My father thought we had the best imagination."

"My mom laughed about it a lot," Mana said, her voice breaking. "She'd ruffle my hair and say I was going to be an author or something some day with all my fantasies."

"But we knew we weren't imagining," Atem said. "It was safe when we were kids, right?"

Mana's hand curled tightly around the door, and he could see her knuckles shaking.

"I'm scared," she said, voice trembling.

"Scared of what?" Atem said.

Mana was shaking so badly, even through the tiny crack he could tell.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Everything. Remembering. Not remembering."

She finally lifted her eyes, and he met her watery emerald eyes.

"We're getting older," she said. "I don't know if we should forget or remember anymore."

Her hand slid over the wood and touched his fingers. He turned his fingers towards hers, but didn't press the touch any further.

"I'm scared too," he whispered. "We're almost fifteen. That's how old I was when..."

He didn't have to say it. Mana sucked in a breath, and he could hear the choke in it.

"I'm sorry for ruining your scrapbook set up," Atem said.

"It's okay. I have more copies of everything," Mana mumbled.

Atem nodded. For a moment, they only stood there. He swallowed. He didn't know what else to say.

He took one step back, his hand moving away from hers.

Mana opened the door farther, and slid her arm out so that she could still touch his fingers.

"Don't go," she whispered.

He didn't know if she meant right now, or...or if she meant in the future.

He remembered dying. He didn't remember being any older than this. He couldn't pretend like he wasn't scared of what could come next—couldn't pretend that it wouldn't be easier not to remember anything.

He tried to smile at her.

"We're all together this time," he whispered. "It will be okay."

She tried to smile back.

"I know."

* * *

 _Maybe there's something else they're there to do. Maybe there's a reason they remember._

 _Or maybe they were just too afraid to forget._


	6. Salt Glaze Seasons

_It just leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Remembering without knowing what to do with it. She cradles the memories in her hands on the pillow beside her and hopes that they'll follow her into her dreams, that maybe there's something she can learn from them. Something that she can figure out._

 _What does she need the memories for? The memories of the Egyptian sands where she once lived—are they important? And if so, how?_

 _Or are they keeping her from living the life that she's supposed to be living now?_

* * *

She sat on the front stoop, head cradled in her hands as she rocked slowly back and forth. Autumn smelled crisp and cool in her nostrils, and the leaves were starting to turn. Behind her, she could hear the soft clatter of Atem's big sister Isis working on dinner. She heard the squeak of her own big brother, Mahad's, sneakers in the kitchen, the faint echo of his voice without the words. He was probably asking if Isis needed any help—if Isis' soft response was what Mana thought it was, she guessed she had agreed. Two sets of feet echoed each other in the kitchen, and the smell of shish taouk began to wind its way through the open window.

Mana blew out through her lips, making the fringe of her bright yellow headscarf flutter at her collarbone. It was getting colder out. She welcomed the cooler weather, so that she wouldn't overheat in her long sleeves anymore.

Her eyes unfocused as she let her thoughts drift into the air with the swirling leaves in the breeze. The mailbox remained untouched by the mailman, and she sighed.

"Aw, are you waiting for me? I feel so appreciated."

She almost snorted at the sound of the grin in Atem's voice, her eyes coming back into focus. Atem grinned at her as he made his way up the sidewalk, his book bag under his arm.

"How was tutoring?" she asked, scootching over so that he could sit down on the step beside her. He let out a soft oof as he sat down before answering.

"Not bad," he said. "At least they didn't stick me with Bakura this time, praise Allah."

Mana giggled. Then she put her head back in her hands, and went back to staring at the mailbox.

"Guess you weren't waiting for me," Atem teased, following her gaze.

"I see you every day," she said, sticking out her tongue. "No, I'm supposed to get a package today."

"Oh, really? What'd you order?"

Mana chewed on the edge of her tongue for a moment, almost afraid to look at Atem.

"Some...Egypt stuff. Books and things."

Atem didn't answer for a moment. She could hear the air dying in his throat before it could release.

"The stuff at the library isn't helping, I guess?" he said.

"I need more scholarly things," Mana said. "I...um...requested some document copies from the college."

Once again, Atem didn't respond right away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, his own eyes out of focus. The breeze rustled through the leaves over their heads.

Mana ran her tongue over her dry lips, feeling the heels of her palms digging into her jaw.

"I just have to know things," she mumbled. "I have to know if they're true."

Atem put his hand on the wood of the deck behind him, and he leaned back, eyes still on the mailbox.

"I know," he said.

She let her head sag between her hands and fall almost to her knees.

"How much _do_ you remember?" she whispered.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then Atem let out a breathy sigh though his lips.

"Bits and pieces," he said. "The Egypt life is a little clearer, for some reason. I barely remembered the time after being...in the Puzzle. I wish I did. Part of me thinks...some of those people I knew then might still be out there."

She knew he was thinking of the cards, the ones that the man called Judai had thrown to them on the train. So he didn't really remember the ones those had belonged to? That must...be so frustrating...to only half remember.

"What about you?" Atem whispered.

Mana let her head fall the rest of the way to her knees.

"All of it," she said. "Every detail from Egypt. Every...detail."

One detail she didn't want to remember was creeping into the back of her head, and she wanted, so badly, in that moment to reach for Atem, to touch his hand and make sure he was still there. She didn't.

"Do you promise you won't make me wait again?" she whispered.

She heard his hands curl up against the wood, and her heart jumped as she realized, he wouldn't want to remember that either. Could he even promise something like that?

But then his voice whispered between the breeze.

"I promise," he said. "As long as you promise back."

Her throat was so thick, she could only nod.

They returned to the silence, their eyes on the mailbox. Waiting. Still waiting.

* * *

 _What are these memories waiting for? Why did he have them? And why did he have a sense that they were telling him to wait, to wait for something else, to tell him to stay where he was and keep remembering just in case?_

 _In case of what?_

 _What is he waiting for?_

 _What are_ they _waiting for?_

 _He picks up his book and leaves it on the desk. He finds her door, knocks, waits for it to open._

" _You were right," he says. "I think we_ should _write it down."_


	7. Marbled Halls

_Maybe in the end—_

 _Maybe there isn't a reason for remembering._

 _Does there have to be?_

 _Maybe the only reason they remember is because—_

* * *

"That one. That's definitely us."

"Whaaat? I can see why you think it's _you_ , I mean, your hair is ridiculous—but I don't know if that's me."

"Look at that faded bit behind this one, though, doesn't it look like the Dark Magician Girl? It's totally you—and hey, my hair is fine. It grows like this naturally."

Mana stuck her tongue out at him, but she was smiling, and so was he. She peeled up the piece of paper with the photo of the relief they were discussing, and squinted at it. She supposed he was right—it did look like her, a little bit. Granted, it was done in an Egyptian style, so everyone looked kind of the same, but yeah, that faded bit behind in the shape of a person had a distinctive hat, and it was too bright of a pink color to have been done by accident.

"Okay, so this one is definitely us," she said. "This is the first one we've found with us standing next to each other!"

She grabbed her scissors, humming as she began to carefully cut the relief out of the page, angling deftly around the curves until it was freed.

"This should go right in the middle," Atem said, taking it from her fingers and positioning it in the center of the first page of the brand new scrapbook.

It was a beautiful thing that Atem had bought from the craft store—the cover was a heavy leather, with delicate, leaf and vine like designs carved into edges, and a little clear plastic slip in the middle to add a photo, or a title. Atem had simply written, in his elegant and calligraphic style, _Memories_ , and slid that paper inside the slip.

"What about this?" Mana said, grabbing another of the documents ordered from the college library. "That's the Blue Eyes! It must be Kisara."

"And the one underneath is Seth," Atem said, his eyes brightening. "Let's add it to his pile for when we get to his page.

He started to paw through the unsorted pages as Mana added her find to the top of Atem's neat stacks. His organizational skills were almost a little too persnickety for her tastes, but at least it kept things pretty tidy.

"Oh! This is—Karim, right?" Atem said, holding up another sheet. "It has the—the scales."

"Oh! It is!"

"Did he come back, with us, do you know? I'm never sure about everyone—"

"Yeah, yeah, we just don't see him a lot, remember? He's from your dad's law firm."

Atem laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Mana had heard in ages.

"Oh, right! His name is...Abbud this time around, right?"

"Add him to the pile next to Shada's," Mana said, pointing. "I think I've found another one of Mahad."

Their voices tumbled over each other as they sifted through the piles of documents—more memories tumbled free from their lips and minds as they found new ones.

"This is a picture of wine flasks, not any of our friends."

"But remember, remember? We used to steal ones just like these and fill 'em up with flour to dump on Siamun!"

"Hey, look at this, isn't this the same style of vases we used to play hide and seek in?"

"Ooooh, I actually remember these—the honey cakes, they were so good! You think we could figure out how to recreate the recipe? I don't know if any recipe scrolls survived!"

"Isis used to scold us for climbing on that balcony, right? Or am I thinking of a different balcony?"

"Oh this diagram of the palace! I remember the whole thing—this is where Mahad used to go to write poetry when he thought I didn't know what he was doing!"

"And over here is where we took lessons, remember?"

"I remember climbing out the window in this corner a lot better, and leaving our illusions behind to sneak into town!"

They both looked at each other and laughed. The laughter grew more than either of them anticipated, and suddenly Atem was rolling onto his back with his arms wrapped around his stomach, and Mana was sliding down against the bed with tears in her eyes and her throat going sore from the laughter.

It took ages for the sounds to die down, and tiny giggles kept spurting from their throats in the silence.

Atem didn't get up right away, his eyes up on the ceiling. Mana leaned heavily into the side of her bed, still feeling tears in her eyes.

"I'm glad we're doing this," she whispered.

"Me too," Atem said back. "I feel like...like this is something I was waiting to do for a long time."

"What, the scrapbook?"

It lay open between them—after only a few hours of work, it was already crammed with things. Pages dedicated to each friend, the images carved out of reliefs that were certainly them, with pictures of vases and foods and other aesthetics cut out of books and internet pictures that reminded them of them. Card sleeves pasted inside so that the cards that matched them could be slipped into the spot, given center stage.

Atem shook his head.

"No, I mean, the scrapbook is fun—I'm really, really glad we're doing that. But I meant..."

He raised one hand up towards Mana's hanging light, splaying his fingers so that he blocked it from his eyes. It sent a shadow over his face, a strange design of spidery finger shadows.

"This," he whispered. "Just sitting here. With you. Safe, and happy, and everyone we care about in a good place. A safe, happy place where we can talk about all these memories and...and laugh."

His words sounded like they were echoing out of her own brain, and she was almost surprised that she wasn't the one saying them. She slid down against the side of the bed so that she was laying on her side, looking at him over the top of the scrapbook. He turned his own head towards her, and their eyes met.

"I feel the same way," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But I thought you never wanted to remember."

"Sometimes I thought so," he said. "But I think...it would hurt more not to. I didn't remember the second time I was back—and it hurt, a lot. I spent the whole time looking for those memories."

"But you wouldn't need them this time," she pointed out. "You were a lost soul then...this time you were born, and you grew up. You have new memories."

Atem shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know, then," he said. "I guess I just like to remember, now...I can change my mind, right?"

She nodded slightly, her cheek dragging against the carpet. She almost felt like closing her eyes. Falling asleep right there. Atem's eyes looked a little droopy too.

Then she sat up all at once, hands pressed into the carpet. His eyes opened the rest of the way, and he blinked at her in surprise.

"I think I know why we decided to remember," she said.

He blinked again, lips parting.

"Why?" he whispered.

She gestured at the mess around them, the scrapbook.

"This. I mean—it's like you said," she said. "We want...we wanted to be able to wake up from that nightmare. To be someplace where we were safe and happy and everyone we loved was okay. Where we could look back and laugh. And think happily about before."

She smiled at him, and felt something swelling up inside her. He was here, in front of her, alive. His eyes meeting hers, shining with life and wonder and she could barely stop the swell of love and joy all bubbling up inside her chest. She wanted to laugh. To jump up and run around and frolic and dance.

"Well, we made it," she said. "We made it to that safe happy place. And we wanted to remember, so that we could appreciate that we had finally made it. Our dream came true—wouldn't we want to remember that it had been a dream in the first place?"

He pushed up onto his elbow, head resting on his hand so that he could look up at her more easily. His eyes were sparkling with—what? The same joy she was feeling? Or maybe even...the same love?

"I think you nailed it," he said. "I really think...you nailed it."

Their eyes met—emerald to red.

Both of them alive. Both of them shining. The memories of how far they had come strewn on the floor between them.

"I love you a lot, Atem," she said.

"I love you too," he said back.

It was enough.

It was enough.

* * *

 _Maybe we remember because—_

 _We want to be able to appreciate it._

 _All of it._

 _All of the sad times, the happy times, the joyful and sorrowful and angry and calm times. They were all enough, when we were together. They were all enough._

 _We remember because we love each other. And we want to be able to appreciate all of that love. From the past..._

 _To the ever distant future._


End file.
